


Honey than Vinegar

by devilinthedetails



Category: PIERCE Tamora - Works, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Diplomacy, F/M, Family, Father and Son, Gen, Midwinter, Politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 22:13:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17068115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilinthedetails/pseuds/devilinthedetails
Summary: Gary learns more flies can be caught with honey than vinegar.





	Honey than Vinegar

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Rosie at Goldenlake for the Wishing Tree event.

Honey than Vinegar

“The Midwinter spirit certainly hasn’t touched the stone hearts of those intractable gentlemen,” Gary grumbled under his breath to his wife as he watched a knot of conservative nobles who had proved quite unwilling to listen to Gary’s arguments on behalf of the reforms Jon was fighting to implement disappear into the swirling lords and ladies dancing and mingling in the opulent ballroom. He had hoped that cups of Midwinter cheer might soften the harsh stance of these adamant conservatives, but they had remained as obstinate as ever. It was enough to make Gary’s head ache with the need for his own cup of Midwinter cheer. 

“Oh, Gary.” Cythera, resplendent in a mistletoe green gown, gave the giggle–merry as Midwinter bells summoning crowds to worship–that meant Gary had been so clever as to outsmart himself again. “When will you ever learn that you’ll catch more flies with honey than with vinegar?”

“Some time after you explain why I would want to bother catching flies anyway.” Gary knew he sounded sharp but he couldn’t help it–he had been making cutting comments since the moment he learned to talk. It was the natural consequence of being born to two people who had never been known for mincing their words. 

“Honey will help you persuade the conservatives to implement some of His Majesty’s proposed reforms than vinegar will.” Cythera slipped her elbow between his and guided him toward the dance floor. When Gary’s only response to this statement was a non-committal noise that in a less genteel environment might have been deemed a snort, she continued calmly, “Your vinegar is failing to convince the conservatives. Why not try to sweeten them with honey for a week and see if you make progress with them? You’ve nothing to lose by attempting a different approach.” 

Gary considered this as they joined the dance. As Cythera twirled beneath his upraised arm, it occurred to him that the sweetness he had always admired in her because it was unattainable for himself might not be mere politeness. It might in fact be a strategy to make others more amenable to her and her requests. There were, he realized, times that her appeals had been heard by those who had been deaf to the irrefutable logic of his arguments. 

“I’ll try it your way,” he finally agreed in the silence between songs. “I’ll produce so much honey conservatives will confuse me with a bee.” 

“A bee without a stinger.” Cythera’s eyes twinkled at him, and, for the hundredth time Gary had the feeling that he had fallen in love with a star that had somehow sank from the heavens to live among petty mortals. 

“I hope not.” Gary chuckled as he swept her into a new dance. “A bee without a stinger would soon be dead, my love.” 

Despite his levity with his wife at the Midwinter ball, he did seriously try to take a more honeyed approach to the conservatives as the old year waned and the new one began with all its promise of reform if conservatives could be persuaded to budge on any issues. In meetings where he once would have sought to impale the opposition, he tried to be more patient, understanding of their prospective, and open to compromise. He was surprised and pleased with the ground this strategy caused the conservatives to yield. Within the week, he could inform the king and queen with satisfaction that there would be the funding for the queen’s schools even if the Crown taxes on some conservative fiefs would have to be reduced in compensation for what the conservatives saw as at best a frivolous expense and at a worst a dangerous effort to educate the lower classes. 

His success was apparently so stunning that his almost-impossible-to-impress father couldn’t refrain from remarking upon it one night as they sat in the family study, each reviewing separate government documents.

“I see that you’ve finally learned that sometimes you’ll catch more flies with honey than with vinegar. Well done, son.” Father didn’t usually comment on the work Gary did as Prime Minister unless Gary specifically sought his advice–it was the tacit agreement they had reached to prevent Gary bristling at an overbearing father–but Father sounded so dryly approving that Gary couldn’t be offended. 

“Thank you, Father. It was something Cythera said that made me realize...” Gary trailed off, grin fading as a sudden suspicion made his eyes, so like his father’s, narrow. “You knew that I needed to be sweeter to woo the conservatives into embracing some of Jon’s reforms, but you didn’t tell me.” 

“Of course I didn’t tell you.” Father’s tone was tart as he scribbled a note in the margin of the document he was contemplating with a furrowed brow. “I knew you wouldn’t listen to me. It was something you had to figure out for yourself, not hear from your father.” 

“I listened to Cythera, didn’t I?” Gary pointed out, not appreciating the implication that he was closed-minded enough to discard good guidance just because it came from his father. It had been years since he had indulged in the whims of such childish defiance. 

“Cythera is your wife, and I’m just your father. A man feels he has to listen to his wife. A man doesn’t feel he has to listen to his father.” Father was so matter-of-fact that Gary’s only response could be an eye roll. 

“A man doesn’t feel he has to listen to his father only if his father has hopelessly spoiled him.” Mother had materialized in the doorway, an arch comment as ever ready on her lips. As she bent to search a bookcase for a title, she shot Gary a stern glance. “A man should always feel he has to listen to his mother if she has been properly firm with him during his upbringing , shouldn’t he, Gary?” 

“Absolutely, Mother.” Gary had learned long ago that it was wisest to assent to anything his mother said when she was wearing her most imperious expression. 

“Excellent.” Mother grabbed the book she had apparently been seeking from the shelf and gave Father a triumphant took. “You see how well I have him trained? Soon he’ll be coming when he’s called and everything.”


End file.
